


Losing His Mind

by angelheartbeat



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: AU, Adult Dipper Pines, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Bipper, Bipper Pines, Blood, Demonic Possession, Going insane, Gore, Hallucinations, Insane Bill Cipher, Insane Dipper Pines, Insanity, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Possession, Possessive Behavior, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-08-31 17:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8587792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheartbeat/pseuds/angelheartbeat
Summary: AU where the mystery twins never went to Gravity Falls, but the Grunkles defeated Bill without them. Dipper moved to Gravity Falls after his 20th birthday to take over the Mystery Shack when his Grunkles die, continuing Ford's research. When looking through the forest, Dipper finds a statue of a one-eyed triangle. After taking its hand, strange things start happening to him, and he fears losing his mind completely.





	1. Prologue: The Statue

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh I'm excited! I really like my idea for this but I hope the AU isn't too complicated hhh
> 
> In any case, I hope you enjoy! Updates will hopefully come often, but maybe not too often because I have to update my other Gravity Falls fic as well. But in any case I hope you like it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very very short chapter bc it's just to set the scene of what's going on. A longer chapter should hopefully be up soon!

Journal in hand, Dipper crept through the silent forest. The only sounds he could hear were the crunch of leaves and twigs under his feet, and the occasional tweet of a bird.  
_This is crazy_ , he told himself. _What are you even looking for?_

Despite his doubts, he kept walking, as the light faded. His research to add onto his late grunkle's was doing well, but this was the furthest he had ever ventured into the woods, but the near-dead silence freaked him out.

He was just about to give up and turn around, when he stumbled into a clearing. Light filtered through the leafy ceiling, and he looked around, confused.

Something caught his eye, and he turned to look at it. Wedged partway in the ground was a statue of a triangle. Taking a step closer, the brunet studied it. A top hat rested on the highest point, and a single long-eyelashed eye was set above a bow tie. One arm was reached towards the sky, as if to shake someones hand.

Reaching out curiously, Dipper held out a hand to shake. He grabbed the empty palm of the statue, and immediately felt something unknown run through him.

Pulling his hand back immediately, Dipper ran it through his hair and took a step back. He didn't know quite what had happened, but he was definitely freaked out.

Turning around, he threw one last glance over his shoulder towards the stone triangle, and set off for home.

Behind him, the statue remained stationary. And then, slowly, it blinked its one eye.


	2. Back at the Shack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper gets back and strange things start happening - or rather, seem to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man I'm hyped for this! It's probably gonna get gory quick, but hopefully the relationship will start building soon too.   
> I hope y'all enjoy this!

Pushing the door open, the 20 year old sighed. After finding the statue, something felt a little off, although he couldn't quite pinpoint what exactly it was. 

Shaking his head in a quick, angry jerk, Dipper attempted to brush off the feelings and headed to the kitchen, turning on the kettle and leaning on the counter. 

"I miss you, Mabel..." he muttered to himself absentmindedly, letting his head drop onto his chest. It had become almost a motto, mumbled under his breath every day since he left California. He didn't regret moving to Oregon, not a bit, he just wished that Mabel had chosen to come with him instead of them just communicating through video chat. 

Although, he couldn't blame her. Investigating monsters in a stuffy old shack in the middle of nowhere wasn't exactly her thing. 

A high pitched whistling broke through his thoughts, and he blinked, quickly grabbing a mug and a teabag, before pouring the boiling water. 

As he tipped up the kettle, his hand slipped, and the scalding water splashed onto the hand holding the mug, spreading burning pain across his palm. 

"Fuck!"

Rushing to the tap, he turned on the cold and shoved his hand under the stream of water, wincing at the cold. After holding his hand under the icy stream for a few minutes, he pulled it out to examine the damage. 

There wasn't anything on his hand. It wasn't even red. And when he touched it, it just felt like normal skin, not painful at all. 

Frowning and turning off the tap, he walked back to his mug of tea, now going cold. Where he had splashed the water, there was nothing, not even a spot of warmth. His tea was simply sitting there by the kettle, slowly losing its heat. 

_Did I imagine that..?_

Picking up his tea after removing the teabag and throwing it away, Dipper took a sip and frowned. The pain had felt so real, and yet there was no evidence of it happening at all. 

Scratching the back of his neck, Dipper put the kettle back on the stove and picked up his mug again, moving quickly to the sink. In one swift motion, he poured the lukewarm tea down the drain, and rinsed out the empty mug. Opening the cupboard and placing it back in, he sighed. He wasn't in the mood for tea anymore. 

* * *

Curled up in the armchair in the living room, TV playing some mindless drama, Dipper was finishing sketching the statue from earlier. He constantly thanked the world for his photographic memory, but this time remembering it made him oddly uncomfortable. 

Once he finished, he looked at the drawing and frowned. It seemed a little too real, and much better than most of his drawings, as though something else had been guiding his pen. 

As he stared at it, the drawing of the statue blinked its single eye. 

"What the..." Shocked, Dipper rubbed his eyes and looked at it again. It didn't move, because it was just a drawing. 

_Right?_

Slowly getting more uncomfortable, Dipper ripped out the page with the drawing from his journal, and screwed it up into a ball. He threw it across the room, but it bounced off the side of the bin and landed on the floor. Too freaked to just let it lie there, as it normally would, he got up and put it into the bin properly. 

_Stop being so paranoid, Dipper. Everything's fine, that statue just weirded you out because it's a triangle._

Hah, yeah, that was pretty weird. He nodded, hoping that he could put it out of his mind by doing something else, like clean the shack or something. 

With his mind set on clearing the dust from the place, he got up. Glancing at the photo of his great uncles on the table, a smile grew on his face. Despite having never met them, living in this place really gave a sense of knowing them. And even though he only had photos to know what they looked like, he missed them. 

Why was he so sentimental today? Chuckling lightly under his breath, Dipper shook his head. That statue must have messed him up more than he thought or something. With his mind refocused on cleaning, he headed off to find the supplies. 

* * *

Humming under his breath, Dipper swept away the dust and cobwebs from the different rooms. No matter how often he cleaned, the mystery shack just seemed to attract dust, and he had cleaned every day in the week since he arrived.

He didn't mind though. This way, he could never be bored. Between investigating the mysteries of the town and cleaning his new home, he always had something to do. Not to mention, he still had to meet most of the towns residence, as he was sure most of them viewed him as some kind of hermit, never leaving his house. 

Opening his mouth to sing, he accidentally inhaled some dust, and immediately started coughing. Expecting the tickle in his throat to disappear immediately, he didn't think anything of it at first, but when it didn't go away, he started getting worried.

In fact, it almost seemed to be getting worse. Dropping his broom, Dipper brought both his hands to his mouth, feeling like he was coughing up his lungs. When the coughing fit finally passed, he glanced at his hands, and felt his fear mount. Spots of blood covered his palms, staining them red. 

Beginning to hyperventilate, he squeezed his eyes shut and let his hands drop. When he opened his eyes and dared to look at his palms again, his brown eyes widened in surprise.

There was nothing there. 

"Okay, now this is just getting weird," Dipper whispered to himself, not knowing how to feel. On the one hand, he was secretly relieved that he didn't actually cough up blood, but on the other hand, he was terrified at himself. First the water, and now coughing up blood - or rather, not coughing up blood. Were they hallucinations? 

Trying to put them out of his mind, along with the thought of their link to the statue, he shook his hands as though to rid them of the blood that didn't exist, before bending down to pick up the broom and continue sweeping. 

Once the living room was clear of dust, he put away the broom and headed upstairs to the attic, where he had decided to sleep. Sleeping in his grunkles room just seemed... wrong. And weird. 

It was only seven in the evening, but he changed into his pyjamas and crawled into bed regardless. 

_A good nights sleep should shift all this weird stuff_ , he told himself, rolling over and settling down to sleep. 

For a split second before he closed his eyes, there was a flash of yellow from them. But then they were closed, and he was going to sleep. 


	3. In His Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper wakes up in what seems to be some kind of weird dream. Once he wakes up, he meets someone new and weird things continue to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets better near the end I promise pls dont give up bc I know the start is shit

Dipper opened his eyes and sat up, blinking slowly. He was surrounded by darkness, as though he was floating in some kind of void. Oddly enough, he wasn't scared, only intrigued. Pushing off of nothing, he found he could float around quite easily. Laughing, he started messing around, flipping and twirling. Spinning slowly to a stop, he looked around, and that was when he noticed the mirror. 

It was an ornate thing, but he couldn't help but notice the frame was full of the eye, the one from the statue. Carefully, he floated over to it, and pulled it towards him, immediately letting go. It had felt as though the eyes had almost burned him, but when he looked at his hands, there was nothing there once again.

Dipper thought nothing of it, looking in the mirror at his reflection. His eyes widened in fear and disbelief and he kicked the mirror away, holding his hands over his eyes. The mirror had to be fake. 

_Wait... This is a dream!_

The brunet exhaled one long sigh of relief, the knowledge that it was a dream calming his thoughts. This was his first lucid dream, though, and he was a little freaked by his reflection. Why was his brain giving him a dream where his eyes were soulless yellow pools with catlike slits in them for place of pupils? 

With a shock, he realised the eyes on the side of the mirror were yellow. Not only that, they too had the catlike pupils. What was this twisted dream? 

Curling up into a ball, Dipper tried to will himself out of it. Floating in this void was no longer as fun as it had been when he entered the dream. However, realising that willing himself out wasn't working, the brunet pulled himself out of the ball and started considering the mirror again. 

Daring to approach it, Dipper looked as his reflection. Horror shot through him as he saw the reflection was smiling. Smiling! As he watched, the catlike eyes opened wide, and one of them winked, almost too fast to catch. Somehow horrifically drawn to it, he reached out and pressed his right hand against the biggest eye of the frame, feeling heat sear through his palm. 

When he pulled his hand away, he expected there to be nothing. But instead, there was an imprint of the eye, still painful and raw. Terrified, Dipper moved away from the mirror again. 

_If this is a lucid dream, I should be able to do what I like, right?_

Cautiously, Dipper imagined the mirror disappearing. Instead, it just seemed to draw closer, as if it was mocking him. His reflection winked again, and he felt himself spiralling away, as though he was losing himself to the mirror-

* * *

In the real world, Dipper woke up in a cold sweat to the sound of someone knocking on his front door. Hurriedly, he pulled on some clothes, and rushed downstairs to open the door. 

"Hi, sorry I took so long to answer," Dipper panted, pulling the door open. A big man stood outside, wearing a question mark t-shirt and a cap, which he tilted politely. 

"No worries, dude!" the man said, and Dipper could sense his cheerfulness. "I'm Soos. I would have come round earlier, but I had no idea this place had a new owner!"

"Oh, right, yeah. I'm Dipper. Dipper Pines." He held out his right hand for Soos to shake, but the guy seemed instantly fascinated by something else.

"Whoa, nice eye tattoo, dude!" he said, pointing at Dippers hand. 

"Huh?"

Holding it up to his face, Dipper almost started hyperventilating right there and then. Imprinted on his hand was the eye from his dream, now seemingly healed. As he stood there, terrified and not knowing how to react, Soos started talking on again. 

"Anyway, you must be related to the guys who ran this place before you came! I wish they hadn't..." He stopped talking, as Dipper almost managed to overcome his discomfort. After staying silent for a few seconds, seemingly in memory of Dipper's grunkles, he resumed talking. "But in any case, if you ever need someone to fix things for you, just ask me! I'll be happy to help."

With that, Soos turned around and waved, walking off down the path away from the Mystery Shack. Dipper remained silent, not knowing how to feel. He was glad that not all the locals thought of him as an isolated hermit, but on the other hand... Glancing at the burned mark, he walked back inside, closing the door behind him. 

* * *

A few hours later, Dipper had drawn up every single possibility of how this had happened, and every single possible remedy, and the mark was still stubbornly branded on his palm. Every time he looked at it, he felt sick, and a few times already he actually had been forced to run to the toilet and throw up. He refused to believe that this was because of the statue, although he knew in his heart that it was the only logical reason. 

Sitting down in the living room armchair, he sighed resignedly. Putting his laptop on his lap, he unlocked it and straight away Skyped Mabel. 

She took a few minutes and calls to answer, as always, but when she did Dipper had never been happier. Her cheerful face and voice calmed him down like always, despite her hyperactive personality. 

"Hey Dips!" she said, and Dipper felt like the fear and worry of the past day or so was all melting away. He smiled in relief, and lifted a hand to wave, making sure it was the left one, so she wouldn't notice the eye. 

"Hey Mabel," he said, and his tiredness leaked through his voice, causing his twin to frown disapprovingly. 

"Dipper, did you pull an all nighter again? Just because I'm not there to make you go to sleep doesn't mean you have an an excuse to stay up all night!"

"Hah, yeah." Dipper scratched his neck uncomfortably, suddenly worried that the laptop would do the same thing the mirror did and show his eyes as catlike and pure yellow. "Anyway, how are things over there?"

"Oh, you know! They're going really great actually, I just.."

Allowing her voice to melt into the background as she blabbered on about her life, Dipper started considering possibilities again, nodding where it was appropriate in Mabel's stories. Maybe his mind was just messed up, or something like that. Whatever it was, it scared him. A few minutes later, he was forced to tune in again, as Mabel started to make her goodbyes.

"Oh, Dip, I gotta go. Mom's calling me, we're meant to be going out to lunch together. Don't forget to eat, I know what you're like!"

With that, the call hung up, before the male twin even had a chance to say goodbye as well. As he put the laptop away, he considered what Mabel said, and figured it couldn't hurt to eat some cereal or something. 

Whistling softly to distract himself as he started pouring his cereal, the brunet let his mind wander again. Deliberately trying to avoid the subject of the eye or his dream, he finished making his cereal and sat down to eat. As he ate, he noticed how gritty and nasty it tasted.

Ignoring the taste, he continued chewing, until he felt a sharp pain in his mouth, and something hard fell onto his tongue. He immediately spat it into his palm, and was almost not surprised when one of his teeth was there in a drizzle of bloody spit. His fear started to creep over him again as he continued to eat, and the rest of his teeth started to follow suit. 

When he ran his tongue over his gums, they were empty and bare, and he pushed away the rest of the cereal, a small pile of his teeth next to it, in a pool of reddish saliva. Squeezing his eyes shut, Dipper begged the world to stop this, and when he opened them again he suddenly felt nauseous. 

Rushing to the bathroom and kneeling by the toilet, a black liquid poured out of his throat, past his toothless gums and into the toilet. It was almost like a mix of blood and treacle, and it made Dipper feel even sicker, which just caused him to vomit more of the sticky black substance. 

Once he had finally overcome the nausea and all the disgusting unknown liquid had been forced out of his stomach, he dared to look in his bathroom mirror and open his mouth. His teeth had somehow returned, and there wasn't a trace of the black liquid, even though when he glanced in the toilet it was full of it. Gagging, he flushed and watched as the treacle-like stuff was washed away, walking shakily back to the kitchen. He wasn't even surprised when he saw that the pile of teeth had disappeared. 

 _I must be going insane,_ he thought as he poured the remaining cereal down the sink. The thought was somehow oddly comforting, which scared him even more.  _I can't even eat or sleep without having these hallucinatory things._

Shaking his head, he glanced at the branded eye on his hand again. It almost seemed to be mocking him, but he knew that was ridiculous. 

Then again, when he had just spent quite a while vomiting a treacle like substance into the toilet before realising it just seemed to be a hallucination, was an eye shaped burn making fun of him really that far out of the realm of possibility? 

He shivered in fear and wished he had never seen the statue. At this point he was almost completely convinced that the statue was behind all this. 

_Wait a second. Maybe Grunkle Ford wrote something in one of his journals and I've forgotten?_

Rushing to his room, Dipper grabbed the first journal and started flicking through it. Finding nothing, he scowled and grabbed the next closest one, which turned out to be journal three. He was about to move on when he found a page with something that looked like the statue, a one-eyed triangle with a top hat and limbs. 

"Bill Cipher," he read out loud, and narrowed his eyes. Was this who he was meant to blame? Sure enough, the drawing looked just like the statue, worryingly so, in fact. "Bill can't be trusted..?"

Flicking back a page, Dipper almost recoiled at the wild scribblings and rough drawings of the eye. The scribbled sketches almost seemed to look at him, and he turned back to the page on Bill Cipher almost immediately. Starting to read, he started fearing that touching the statue had let Bill into his mind. Turning to the next page, he wondered if sleeping was the wrong thing to do. It certainly seemed like Ford had thought sleeping would let him in. 

And then before he knew it he had read everything on Bill that he could find, and his nerves weren't soothed in the slightest. If anything, they were even more on edge. 

_Did I let a demon into my mind and not even know..?_

Studying the eye on his hand, Dipper was hit with a sensation of being watched. He dropped his hand straightaway, but the sensation didn't leave him. Scared, he stood up and made his way downstairs, flicking the kettle on to make some coffee. 

If he was going to commit to keeping Bill out of his mind, that meant as little sleep as possible, and that meant caffeine. After the kettle boiled, he was almost terrified to touch it, remembering the last time he had used the kettle. 

Carefully, he picked up the kettle and poured it into his mug of instant coffee, before getting the milk out of the fridge. There was only a mouthful or so left, and he screwed up his face, attempting to figure out if leaving his house for milk was worth it. He knew that he was either going insane, or slowly getting possessed by this Bill demon. Either way, he was scared of what might happen if he was around humans, and with a resigned sigh he put the milk away, resolving to develop a taste for black coffee. When he took a sip of it, he flinched, but forced himself to keep drinking, allowing the caffeine to work its magic into his bloodstream. 

 _And now to figure out how to get rid of him, I suppose..._ he thought, looking again at the brand on his right palm.  _I must be insane._

_Oh, wait. I guess I am._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is SO badly written someone stop my sinful hand
> 
> That sounded dirty whoops I didn't mean it to be
> 
> But in any case if you've made it this far through this shit then I congratulate you.


	4. Going Outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've now planned out the next few chapters for this and I'm planning to alternate updating this and Roommates, but updates might slow a little.  
> I hope no one minds! I doubt you would hah

A week later, Dipper was sitting in a tiny ball in his bathroom, curled up by the toilet, a mug of coffee in his hands. His eyes were bloodshot, and he had already vomited several times in the past hour. 

He hadn't slept in a week. 

At this point he supposed his blood must be mostly coffee. It was his lifeline, his way of surviving against the demon in his brain. Despite his achievement of not sleeping in a week, the hallucinations were getting more frequent. He had already thrown up the black liquid multiple times, not to mention other countless horrific experiences. 

He shuddered as he remembered some of them, and twisted round to vomit tiredly into the toilet. Not even caring at this point, he flushed the toilet and returned to his spot, tightening his grip on the mug of coffee. 

Slowly rocking back and forth, his bloodshot eyes darted back and forth, paranoia kicking in. Standing up carefully, he placed the coffee on the bathroom counter, and dared to take a look in the mirror. 

His irises were bright gold. At this point, he wasn't even sure if it was a hallucination or if they were actually yellow. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he clicked onto the camera and blinked in fear as the phone reflected the same colouring as the mirror. It must be real. 

Taking a deep breath resignedly, he took the last gulp of his coffee and started making his shaky way downstairs to top up his caffeine supply. The second he took a step on the stairs, he felt his legs crunch, and collapse below him. As he crumpled, he could feel his bones splintering and shattering in his legs, and winced in pain. 

Breathing heavily, Dipper held onto the banister to stop himself from collapsing down the stairs. As he held on, he could almost feel his mind stopping the hallucination, and he took one terrified step forward, his legs solid once more. 

Finally making it downstairs, he walked into the kitchen, finding his jar of instant coffee. When he opened it, his eyes widened. The jar was empty. 

"Fuck, no, I need this..." he muttered, turning it upside down. A small cloud of coffee dust flew out and disappeared into the air. 

His heart jumping into his throat, he rubbed his eyes and yawned. A week of no sleep was taking its toll, but he had to stay awake, he had to... Biting his lip, he realised he would have to go outside. 

The familiar sound of a Skype call came through from the living room. His laptop had been left open a few days ago. He was too scared to go near it, in case a hallucination happened. Which meant that regularly, he had to sit through the sound of Mabel calling him, and every time he almost drowned in his own guilt. But he couldn't let her know about what was happening. She shouldn't be worried about this stuff. He would have to suffer through it alone. 

Allowing the call to ring out, he sighed and glanced into the empty coffee jar again. Taking a long, shuddery breath, he watched the world spin before his eyes, and had to grab the counter to steady himself. 

Feeling an itch on his chest, he reached up to scratch it, but the itch didn't go away. Like the cough from the week before, it simply seemed to get worse, and he started ripping through his hoodie at the skin to get rid of the itch. Leaving bloody rips in his flesh, he started tearing at the skin wildly, blood under his nails and dripping onto the floor, staining the torn mess of his hoodie. 

It wasn't long before he felt bone under his wildly tearing nails, but he couldn't stop himself at this point. Breathing heavily, he grabbed his ribs and started pulling at them, slowly and agonisingly snapping each one. Dropping to his knees, he shoved his lungs aside and reached below them, taking a hold of the wildly beating organ in his chest. In one swift move, he tore it out of his body, and stared at it on his palm. 

It remained beating for a few seconds, and Dipper blinked slowly, as the world slowed down around him. He felt himself collapse, and that's when he passed out. 

* * *

When he came to, who knew how much time later, he was lying on the kitchen floor, clean tiles around him and his hoodie and body intact. Pressing a palm flat against his chest, he recoiled as it seemed to burn him, and cursed as he realised it was the palm with the brand on. 

Pulling himself up, slightly shaken by the unexpected nap, he steadied himself on the counter, and found his wallet in his pocket. Taking a deep breath, he headed to the front door, and as he opened it, he pulled the hood of his hoodie as far over his head and face as he could, keeping his newly golden eyes trained on the ground. The outside was terrifying, and the light almost blinded him, having not left his house in the past week, or even opened the blinds or windows. 

As he made his way through the town, he could hear whispers, and feel eyes staring at him. Self-conscious, he pulled the hoodie further over his face and stared at the floor, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

When he reached the grocery store, he headed straight for the coffee. Nothing else was important to him, as he had stopped eating a few days earlier. As he placed the instant coffee on the cashiers desk, he constantly kept his face towards the floor, meaning the hood cast an ominous shadow over his face. 

Paying and taking his coffee, the trip outside was passing without major incident, and he couldn't wait to be back inside. But just as he was about to leave, a familiar voice broke through the hum of suspicious whispering. 

"Dude!"

Dipper flinched. The cheeriness of the man he had met a week before had once cheered him as well, now it simply set off alarm bells. 

"Hey, I haven't seen you in ages! Come introduce yourself to the rest of town!" Soos laid a hand on Dipper's shoulder, and the brunet shrugged it off. But the man was persistent, and eventually Dipper wheeled around. 

"I just wanna get home, okay, Soos?" he said angrily, and shocked himself with the gravelly voice. It was the first time he had spoken louder than a mutter since calling Mabel last, and his voice cords were clearly strained by the sudden speech. 

"Aww, don't be like that, dude!" the cheerful man continued, tilting his head and smiling happily. "Cmon, everyone wants to meet you!"

"Leave me alone," Dipper said warningly, backing away and reaching for the grocery store door handle. A small crowd had gathered, both inside and outside the shop, to witness the curious event. 

"What? Dude, are you okay? You're like... major pale."

"I said leave me alone, Soos," continued Dipper, now scrabbling frantically for the handle. The coffee almost slipped out of his other hand, but with a wild grab he managed to save it. 

"Seriously, you don't look good at all. Dude, I-"

"Leave me ALONE!"

Yelling the last word, Dipper suddenly realised his right hand was outstretched. Blue flames had almost seemed to shoot from his fingertips, and when he looked at the branded eye, it glowed blue briefly. Glancing up at Soos, he saw him holding his shoulder in pain, and smoke emanating from between his fingers. Beginning to hyperventilate, Dipper watched as people crowded around the burnt man, and a few glared at him in shock and horror. 

Finally managing to find the door handle, Dipper tore the door open and flew out as fast as he could, sprinting home as people stared after him. His hood flew off, but he was going so fast that anyone who saw his eyes would assume it was just a trick of the light. 

Getting home and slamming the door shut, Dipper slid down it and started full-out panicking. He allowed the coffee to roll out of his hand and brought his knees to his chest, burying his nose in them and crying quietly. Now the whole town would think he was some kind of monster, an isolated hermit who had strange blue fire and wasn't scared to hurt innocent people who were just trying to help. 

Pulling himself together, Dipper wiped his eyes and stood up, picking up the jar of coffee. Walking into the kitchen and immediately making himself a cup, he prayed that the trip outside was worth it. 

* * *

Meanwhile in California, Mabel was pacing anxiously. Dipper had never not answered her calls before, and the few times he had, he had always called her back immediately. The long time with no messages or calls or anything was stressing her out. 

She hoped it was just his workload causing him to be too busy to answer. Of course she didn't hope that he had loads of work to do, but she hoped that nothing bad had happened, at the very least. 

Biting her lip, she sat down at her laptop again, and clicked the call button for maybe the thousandth time. When nobody answered, she ran a hand through her hair and sighed. She hadn't really expected an answer, in all honesty, but it still hurt. 

Clicking to the message function, she frowned as she tapped out a message. Maybe he'd be more likely to respond that way? It was her last hope. Everything else had been tried, and everything else had failed. 

**Dip, please answer. You haven't talked to me in a week and I'm super worried about you, so just say something, okay?**

Nodding and taking a deep breath, she clicked send. Anxiety twisted in her stomach and she felt sick, but got up and kept pacing, occasionally glancing at the screen of her laptop. 

* * *

As Dipper drank a fresh cup of coffee, many hours after the disastrous trip out, a new sound came from his laptop, the sound of a message. Curiously, he went to it for the first time in a long while, and read it. It was from Mabel, but there were no surprises there. 

Willing himself to keep it together, he typed out a message, and as he pressed send he felt a shudder of nausea pass through him, and instantly rushed to the bathroom to throw up. The constant vomiting made his stomach ache, especially since at this point it was mostly just dry heaving, as there was nothing except coffee going into his stomach now. 

**I'm fine. I just don't want to talk recently. I'll call you at some point. Stop calling.**

When he returned to his laptop, he saw that another message had already been returned, and he could almost hear Mabel in it. 

**I'm worried about you, brobro! Make sure to call me, okay?? I wanna make sure you're okay, but if you want me to stop calling then okay, I will. Love you Dips!**

The pure innocence and happiness in it made him feel sick to his stomach. He had tried to make it clear that he didn't want to talk, but clearly she seemed convinced that he needed her help. 

_You do need her help._

The thought intruded on his normal thoughts, and he shook it out of his head painfully. Glancing at the clock in the corner of his laptop, he was surprised to see that it was around 4am. After he had stopped sleeping and started living in darkness, time had lost all reason and meaning for him. He was lucky that he had gone outside in the day - or rather, unlucky. 

 _What's Mabel doing up at 4am?_ was his next thought, and a twinge of guilt went through him as he realised she was probably up worrying about him. 

His stomach growled angrily, not for the first time, but for once Dipper actually listened. With Mabel on his mind, he headed back to the kitchen, and started carefully making himself a sandwich. His paranoia was deafening, and he knew that at any moment he might find his hands withering away, or feel blood leaking from his eyes, or something else terrifying like that. 

But it passed with nothing happening, and he sat down in relief, eating without tasting. His body accepted the food gladly, although he knew he would probably just end up vomiting it up anyway. The sandwich felt gritty between his teeth, and he hoped they wouldn't fall out again. 

But for once, he managed to finish it without anything happening, and although he knew that this is what he should be used to, it still felt wrong. Taking a gulp of his now-lukewarm coffee, he stood up and started heading back upstairs, his head cleared thanks to the food. Hopefully he had done himself a favour, and hopefully he had done something to stop Mabel worrying. 

He still didn't sleep.


	5. Bill Cipher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper finally falls asleep and meets someone.

Not sleeping was really taking its toll on Dipper. Panic attacks had started to take him over, and his eye bags were huge and shadowy. He could hardly remember a life where he knew the time of day. He constantly remained curled up in as small a place as he could, clutching a mug of coffee until it went cold. He could hardly stop himself from closing his eyes and nodding off, until his fear gave him a shock and he awoke with his eyes wide. 

Mabel was terrified for him. He hadn't spoken to her in several days after his few messages, and for all anyone knew he could have disappeared off the face of the earth. 

Stomach rumbling, Dipper turned his head towards the door. Once again he was curled up by the toilet, occasionally dry heaving into it, trying to vomit up this insanity, this illness, but nothing coming out. 

Spilling a little of his coffee, the brunet stared at it, unseeing. Close to being unable to distinguish reality and hallucinations, he no longer cared when things spilled. Pain had become just another thing he accepted and mostly ignored, but he could hardly imagine a life without it. 

His head nodding slowly, his eyes gently closed, and he let his head fall to the side. Before he could slip properly into sleep, he blinked himself awake with a shock of panic and took a desperate sip of coffee. The caffeine had started to have less effect, and he assumed he had developed an immunity to it, which was terrifying. This was his lifeline, the thing stopping Bill from being allowed into his insane mind.

He knew barely any other ways to keep himself awake, especially once he had been awake this long already. Besides, in his heart he knew he longed for the warm embrace of sleep, to be able to drift off and slip into a dream. At this point, he didn't even care if he never returned. 

"What's going to happen if he does get into my mind..?" the brunet muttered to himself, his voice cracking croakily from lack of use. The sound was partly comforting, grating on his ears. "Maybe the hallucinations would stop..."

Now that really was insane. 

Despite his feeble attempts to remain conscious, the brunets eyes began to slowly close, and this time he didn't jerk himself awake. Long-repressed sleep washed over him, and once again he found himself in the empty void of his mind. 

* * *

Shivering, it took Dipper a few moments to realise he was standing on solid ground, but when he looked at his feet it was just continued inky blackness.

Walking carefully forwards, expecting the invisible ground below his feet to crumble away and leave him floating in the void at any second, the brunet noticed stars twinkling in the void. Smiling slightly, he looked around him, and they sparkled cheerfully, warming his heart. 

A speck appeared in the distance, and Dipper squinted to see it. The speck grew slowly into a blob, which morphed into a figure, which gradually turned into his sister, smiling and waving. 

"Mabel?" breathed Dipper, hardly daring to believe it. He was still encased in the dreamy sensation that everything was real, and to his insomnia-addled brain this was normal. 

"Dipper! I've made my decision!" his sister replied, her eyes wide with excitement. For a brief second, Dipper was sure he had seen a flash of yellow in her irises, but then they were back to their normal warm brown, matching his. Or rather, that used to match his, before his eyes took on the golden colour. 

"What? A-about what..?"

"I'm going to come to Gravity Falls and study an-om-ah-lees with you!"

The male twin blinked in shocked silence, his mind still pushing him to believe this was reality. The stars around them twinkled gently, shimmering everywhere, even below their feet. As Dipper fumbled for his words, a single shooting star flew behind his sisters head, and she smiled expectantly. 

"I... That's... That's great!" burst out the male, and Mabel grinned, her teeth oddly sharp. 

"Great! But in return..." pondered the brunette, pursing her lips in mock deep thought. Drawing his eyebrows together suspiciously, Dipper forced his brain to work, and something in his subconscious awoke, beginning to put together the pieces of the dream - or, for Dipper, reality. "You need to start sleeping again."

Dipper frowned, a little underwhelmed. "Is that all?"

"Of course!" His sister winked, and held out her hand, smiling sweetly. "All you have to do is shake my hand, and it's a deal."

Reaching hesitantly for Mabel's outstretched hand, Dipper suddenly snapped into reality. Pulling his hand back in fear, he took a step back, and the invisible floor below his feet seemed to break away where he stepped, causing him to jump forward again fearfully. 

"This is... This is a trick, isn't it?!"

The exclamation caused Mabel's expression to turn sour. Withdrawing her hand with a scowl, her features started to twist, and her body crumpled to the floor. As Dipper watched, horrified, her mouth opened, and a dark mist started to escape her. Her form seemed to fold in on itself, tearing and breaking until it had disappeared, and the dark mist was the only thing left, swirling ominously in front of the brunet, who was scared out of his wits, too fearful to run away and yet terrified of the force in front of him. 

Before his eyes, the mist that had once been Mabel started to collect and merge, until it was a dark, solid mass. The... thing... before him started to twist, looking as though it was made of nightmares, until it had a form, scarily familiar to him. 

The body of it turned a soft yellow, and the eye a blinding white, and before Dipper could react, there in front of him was Bill Cipher. 

"Hey there, kid!" the triangle said cheerfully, his voice jarringly happy. Ignoring the terrified look on Dippers face, or perhaps welcoming it, he started to circle the young man, looking frighteningly happy despite not having a month. 

"B-Bill...?" stuttered the brunet, attempting to take a step back and simply feeling the unstable floor behind him crumble further. A terrifying laugh emanated from the triangle, and Dipper had never been more scared.

"You got it, kid! And now I'm in your puny little flesh mind!"

Suddenly the demon was right in Dippers face, tapping his skull. The sound of his fingers against the brunets head echoed in the air, making Dipper shake in panic.

"I... W-what are you going to d-do..?" Dipper asked, his voice cracking for the first time in several years.

"Well, you belong to me now, kiddo. So I'll do whatever I want!"

Bile rose in Dipper's throat, and he could sense that he was going to throw up. Taking a fearful step backwards, he was met with the ground crumbling and falling away. Screaming, he saw everything drop away, and began to fall through the empty void, a ringing in his ears. The same demonic laugh echoed through the darkness, and the young man felt himself slipping away.

* * *

Waking up screaming, Dipper immediately twisted round and threw up into the toilet bowl. He was drenched in sweat, shaking violently in pure terror. The laughter of Bill Cipher remained in his mind, echoing repeatedly in his ears.

A burning on his palm caused him to look down and wince. The branded eye on his palm was inflamed angrily, seeming to scream and laugh at him, causing the laughter in his ears to seemingly get louder.

He clenched his fist, feeling suddenly unclean. Standing quickly, he felt the blood rush to his head, and was forced to grab the counter to steady himself as his eyes blurred and went dark. Every time he blinked, the form of Bill was before him, taunting him, mocking him. 

Stepping slowly to the bathroom sink, Dipper refused to look at the mirror, for fear of what he would see reflected back at him. Instead he scrubbed at his hands. Rubbing violently with a flannel and soap at every inch of his fingers and palms, digging under his nails until both of his hands were spotless except for the brand, but he still felt unclean. The eye was still mocking him. 

Turning on the shower, Dipper stripped down and felt a flash of insecurity. He was never normally worried about his body, but the knowledge that someone was inhabiting his mind caused his worries to come flooding back. 

Attempting to ignore the feelings, Dipper stepped into the scalding stream of water and simply stood there, allowing the heat to course down his body and drain away. Grabbing his soap, he started scrubbing at his body, attempting to wash away the dirt he felt across his skin. It didn't seem to work. If anything, the sensation of uncleanliness was getting worse.

It wasn't long before Dipper realised there were tears pouring down his cheeks, mingling with the burning water. The soap slipped out of his hands, and he covered his eyes, beginning to sob pathetically. 

Feeling his legs collapse underneath him, Dipper fell to the floor painfully. The scalding water continued to drill at his head and body, mixing with the tears streaming down his face and draining away, just as he felt his sanity slip away as well. 

The laughter of Bill Cipher continued to echo in his ears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah I love my dorito husband
> 
> Well this has been a while how are y'all doing I hope you enjoy this
> 
> This fic doesn't have trans Dipper (cri cri) but eh


	6. The Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been longer than I hoped but ehh

The eyes were everywhere. 

Or, Dipper supposed he should simply say eye. Because it was the same one every time, reflected whenever he looked at anything, even his own body. It was just a shadow, never truly clear, simply hovering in front of his vision, no matter what he looked at. The brand on his palm seemed to be getting bigger, and certainly more inflamed. It still didn't hurt, but the brunet couldn't help instinctually wincing whenever he brushed his fingers across the raised, scarred surface. 

He was unsure when the burn had started feeling like a scar, but the skin on his hand was puckered and rough, as though someone had used a knife to slash the symbol into his flesh. In his mind, he told himself that it was just his imagination, working in overdrive to create the feeling, not to mention the hallucinations. 

The hallucinations. 

They had gotten worse, haunting him perhaps even more than the mocking image of the single catlike eye. Almost every day, he was forced to watch his hands uncontrollably harming himself. The pain felt real, but after a little while, the actual blood and viscera had all disappeared. 

Despite that, he still refused to sleep. His mind was screaming at him to go to sleep, just go to sleep and maybe never wake up. At this point, the prospect of slipping into death in his sleep seemed oddly comforting. His own suffering had become everything, taking over logic and reason and love. Pain was all he knew, despite his knowledge that it was all just an illusion. 

Was this was insanity felt like? 

Feeling a pang of pity for the poor souls everyone condemned for losing their minds, the brunet stared at the mug of coffee in his hands, long since gone cold. Did he count as one of those poor souls? 

He didn't know what Bill was doing to him, but he was terrified. Memories flashed through his mind of the things he had seen barely a few days before, as though Bill was taunting him with his own pain. 

The image he had been forced through the night before ran through his mind and he shuddered, drinking the rest of his cold coffee in one gulp. No sleep was really affecting him, more than he had hoped, but about as much as he had expected. The bags under his eyes were permanent at this point, he supposed, wondering if he would ever be the same as he was before all of this. Knowing he looked like shit, he rose from the kitchen table and walked back to the kettle, clicking it on for the fifth time in as many hours. 

At this point, he wasn't sure what was destroying him most. His dependence on caffeine and likely addiction to it, his lack of sleep or Bill. 

Laughing without mirth, he knew it was Bill. The demon was the cause of the other two, after all. 

At least he had found the motivation to spend more time in his kitchen and not just curled up by his toilet, something he didn't know he would ever have again. Although he was still forced to the bathroom to vomit whatever it was Bill had in store for him that day every so often, he was almost proud of himself for making the accomplishment of staying in his kitchen. It was more practical, after all, in terms of making his coffee.

Speaking of coffee, the kettle whistled loudly, and blinking himself out of a sleepy daze, Dipper poured himself yet another mug of coffee. Drinking half of it before he even sat down, he relished the burn of it against his throat, the pain refreshing, perhaps because he knew it was  _real._

The idea of him enjoying pain was a scary one. Was that the brunet thinking, or was it the demon in his head? 

Swallowing, he held a hand over his mouth to try and cover his nausea, and flinched as he realised the mug was slipping from his grip. 

The ceramic smashed on the floor, spilling coffee all over Dipper's legs and feet. The liquid was scalding, feeling as though it was melting through the brunets flesh. Half of him wanted to scream. 

The other half wanted to laugh, to revel in the pain. 

Falling to the floor next to the shards, Dipper started to attempt to pick up the coffee-covered shards, but the ceramic kept slipping from his fingers, and it wasn't long before a gash appeared along the side of his hand. 

Cursing softly, he brought the bleeding cut to his mouth to try and stop the flow of blood. A tiny voice in Dipper's head told him to be happy about the pain, and he tried to shut it down, focusing on staunching the blood flow. But the voice nagged at him, growing louder and louder until his hands were clapped over his ears, in a futile attempt to close out the sound. 

A roaring started in his ears, and for the first time in his memory tears formed in his eyes. Had he cried about this before? 

In the shower, yes, yes. What about before that? 

The blank in his memory terrified him. He couldn't remember crying. That was such a... such a normal human thing, and he could only remember doing it once. 

Did that mean something? 

Clapping a hand across his mouth once again, he got up to rush to the bathroom as the contents of his stomach threatened to make another appearance. He knew he had to eat, especially with how much he was vomiting, but he just couldn't bring himself to consume more than coffee. 

Collapsing at the toilet, Dipper opened his mouth and forced himself to expel the contents of his stomach. His eyes swam, both with tears and the shadow of the eye, but he could see that the substance was red, the same shade as his own blood, and he could taste metal in his mouth. 

Fear gripped him as his stomach churned, forcing out more and more of what was very likely his own blood. His vision was starting to go black, sparking with dots of white, and yet he couldn't stop himself. His body was convulsing with the effort of expelling what was essentially his own life force, and before he knew it, he was slumped over the toilet in a dead faint. 

* * *

Who knew how much time later, the brunet awoke with a terrified start. Pressing a shaking finger to his tongue, he took it away to reveal... nothing. Of course. How had he ever thought that the blood was more than yet another hallucination? 

That gash on his hand wasn't a hallucination, though, and when he looked at it blood had clotted around the wound. 

 _That's gonna leave a scar,_ he thought, surprising himself with his own clear thinking. Barely feeling his own body moving, he pushed himself off the floor and went to the sink, turning on the tap to clean the blood scabbing across the cut. 

His peripheral vision seemed to be cut off, a black shadow around everything he looked at - and of course, the sensation of the eye. Speaking of the eye, he looked at the one on his hand, and was hardly surprised when he saw the burn had turned into an even more scarlike wound. 

Taking a deep breath, Dipper looked at his reflection. For once, no horrific version of himself was reflected, only his own face, too pale with huge black bags under his eyes. He looked terrified, which wasn't surprising, given that he really was. Who wouldn't be? He was... well, he didn't want to think it, but he knew he was basically insane. Despite that, he didn't know if he was being possessed, or if this was just Bill's idea of a sick joke. In any case, he could hardly imagine facing people again. Especially not... 

Mabel.

Guilt flooded in for abandoning his sister. He couldn't remember when he had last spoken to her, but he could imagine how anxious she must be about him. They had never been separated and distant for so long, but he couldn't bear for her to see him like this, helpless under whatever Bill wanted to do to force his mind to be lost faster. 

Suddenly feeling sick again, Dipper's body twitched and he turned around, pulling himself out of the bathroom. For the first time he could remember, he made his way to the stairs and stared up at them. Barely feeling his legs moving, he walked up the stairs, and his eyes widened as he stood in his bedroom. 

The only thing he seemed to be able to see was the triangle window, yellow as though it was Bill, mocking him. Suddenly hearing the echo of Bill's laughter in his ears once more, his breathing sped up, and his legs collapsed underneath him, forcing him to fall to the floor. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_

His breath rasped unbearably, echoing in his ears as he hyperventilated. The voice in his head was screaming curse words, and he started shaking, his eyes wide and unseeing. 

_Cantbreathecantbreathecantbreathe_

He knew he could breathe, but his mind told him otherwise, yelling and lashing out at his own self, panic setting in. He clapped his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block out the screaming, but it just trapped it in his mind, an endless string of screams. 

_FuckfuckcantbreathetooloudloudloudBillcantbreatheBillBillBillfuckfuckfuckcantbreathescaredscaredtooloudcantbreathe_

Every tiny sound was too loud, ringing again and again in his head, surrounded by the echo of his own violent thoughts. Everything was too loud, and he knew he could breathe but his mind was  _screaming_ that he couldn't and Bill was all he could think of and  _fuckfuckfuckfuck_

Empty tears fell from his glazed eyes as the panic in his body caused him to shake violently, his ears blocked but the screaming even louder, but even when he tried to pull his hands away he found himself unable to. He had had panic attacks in the past, but there had always been someone to help him out, usually Mabel. 

The thought of Mabel set off more alarm bells in his head. 

_ShehatesyoushehatesyoufuckfuckfuckBillBillwhatishedoingMabelMabelMabelMabelfuckfuckfuckimsorryimsorryimsorry_

His thoughts were a screaming jumble, tumbling over each other in their haste to scream their meaning and fizzle out, only to return a few moments later. Alarm bells were ringing, and it felt like his head was burning, his body was burning, everything was burning and he couldn't  _breathe and his head was screaming and fuckfuckfuckfuckhelphelp_

_someonehelppleaseMabelwhereareyouBillBillgetoutgetoutfuckfuckfuck_

Barely realising, his mouth opened and began to scream, moving in the motions of the shrieks in his head but simply letting out one long sound, a tortured sound of fear and insanity. 

After a few moments, the scream died off, and Dipper could feel the shrieking thoughts quieting slightly. Dropping his hands from his ears, he hid his face in them, sobs echoing around the old attic. Tears dripped to the dusty floorboards, as he knelt there sobbing, his panic dying slightly. 

As soon as he could collect himself sufficiently, he pulled himself up and tore downstairs, tears still rolling down his cheeks. He never once glanced back up at the attic, curse words dying on his lips even as he went to speak them. 

His heartbeat slowed as he made it downstairs, rubbing the tears out of his eyes. A useless effort, as they simply reformed. He shook his head, the memory of the window and the panic attack still fresh in his mind. 

When he had first arrived in Gravity Falls, the window had served as a comfort, an opening to the sky outside. Now, it just held helplessness. Panic. Thoughts of Bill. 

It wasn't like he slept any more anyway, or at least not deliberately. So he didn't really need a bedroom. Just a kitchen, so he could make coffee, and a bathroom, so he could vomit even more of the food he hadn't eaten. 

With that less-than-comforting thought, he swallowed and made his way to the kitchen, to try and make another cup of coffee.

When he entered, he was met with the shattered remains of his last attempt, still lying on the floor. Panic threatened to rear its head once more, and he stumbled, being forced to grab the doorframe for balance. 

Trying to compose himself, Dipper knelt down, and with shaking fingers attempted to pick up the ceramic shards. After several failed tries, he managed to scoop them all up, and dump them in the bin, a burst of pride shooting through him at the simple act. Something his sister would have done in a heartbeat, without hesitation. Something she often had done, thanks to his often-clumsy nature.

The thought of Mabel almost sent him tumbling to his knees again. 

_I'm sorry._

The thought was simple. He barely even knew what he was apologising for. Who he was apologising to. All he knew was that  _oh god he was so **sorry** he never wanted any of this oh god ohgodohgodohgod_

The fragile stability he had regained threatened to break once more. Just hanging on to it by a thread, he stumbled to find a mop and clean up the pool of cold coffee. 

Something felt off about his nose, but when he touched the area just below it, he found that it was blood. A simple nosebleed. Sighing in relief, an odd gesture to anyone who didn't know his state, he was so glad it was just a nosebleed. A nosebleed he could fix. A nosebleed he could control, as long as he stopped the blood. 

As he walked to get some tissue, though, something leaked out of the corner of his eye. It felt like a tear but somehow thicker, and his fears grew as he touched the substance rolling down his cheek. 

_Blood._

Oh god, no, he couldn't control this. He tried to tell himself it was just a hallucination, but before he could reassure himself, his panic was returning. He was on the edge of falling back into another panic attack, but he was able to keep it together, just. 

That's until he felt the liquid bubble up his throat and slide across his tongue, staining his teeth red and dribbling out the sides of his mouth. Without even checking, he knew it would be blood. 

His breathing sped up, getting shallower and shakier. There was blood under his fingernails, his face was covered, he could feel it pouring out of every feature on his face, appearing on his clothes, staining them. The metallic taste burned his mouth and nostrils, tears pricking at his eyes. 

As the blood bubbled and gargled in his oesophagus and windpipe, he felt himself choking, and brought his hands up by instinct. He couldn't breathe. Oh god, he really  _couldn't breathe._ He was going to choke, he was going to die, he was covered in blood, his  _own_ blood, and he was choking on it, unable to breathe-

He took one last desperate attempt to suck in any oxygen he could, but there was a burning in his lungs, and he knew there was nothing. He couldn't even swallow, the blood was clotting, forming a solid barrier in the tubes leading to his lungs and stomach, the only way he could breathe. He could feel his life draining. 

His eyes rolled back until they only showed the whites, bloodshot and redder than they should be. Choked noises filled the room, barely audible over the roaring screams in his ears. No one was coming to save him, no one could find him or hear him and he couldn't even scream but there was so many screams in his mind and-

His vision went black. 

The last thing Dipper heard before he fell to the floor was the echo of Bill's laughter, and his own strangled cries. 

* * *

When Dipper awoke, he had the vague sensation of lying in a pool of liquid. His vision was still blurry, but when his memory returned he sat up instantly, causing his head to swim dangerously. 

Pressing a hand to his face, Dipper begged that there wouldn't be blood present. To his relief, when he looked at his hand he saw nothing. 

He wasn't particularly surprised. This kind of thing was exactly what Bill would do. 

As he turned to look at the liquid pool he had been lying in, though, he begged that it wasn't blood. His body relaxed when he simply saw the cold coffee that he had neglected to clean up earlier.

Running his hand through his brown curls, Dipper could feel that they were sticky with coffee. His hand was caught several times in knots and tangles, which led the brunet to wonder when he had last brushed his hair. For that matter, when had he last brushed his teeth, either? 

He knew when he had last showered, the memory of his tears and feeling of uncleanliness still fresh in his brain. An involuntary shudder went through him at the thought. That feeling of uncleanliness had never gone away, but at this point he had somewhat accepted it as part of his insanity. 

He could probably pin it on Bill. Most of his problems recently could be blamed on the triangle demon. 

Yet another shudder ran through him as he tried to pull himself together and get up. His head spun, but he managed to find a mop and clean up the pool of coffee still on the floor. 

The screaming in his head didn't stop at all. 


End file.
